


Protected

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mama Hawk, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Post-Promised Day, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 19:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16501355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: It hasn't been a smooth ride since Al got his body back. Add a cold on top of that, and his happy facade all comes crashing down.





	Protected

**Author's Note:**

> im sick so it would be illegal for me to not write sick fic featuring resident good boy and his mama hawk

“I won’t be gone too long—”

“I know.”

“There’s just some things I need to get in order before—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Ed.”

“If he starts to get worse—”

“I’ll send for you right away.”

Ed wavered in the doorway, his “To do before Resembool” list clutched in both hands. He snuck another peek over Riza’s shoulder, at the mountain of blankets hunched on the couch.

“It’s just a cold, Edward,” Riza said, pitching her voice lower so the other boy couldn’t hear them. “He’ll be okay. If anything happens, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

Gaze dropping to the ground, Ed nodded. “Yeah. Just a cold.”

“You have to get everything ready so that as soon as he’s better, you can head to Resembool.”

When Ed didn’t look up, she let a hand rest on his shoulder.

“Right,” he mumbled.

“You don’t want to delay seeing Winry again, do you?”

Ed shook his head.

“Then get your business in order. I’ll look after Al.”

His eyes slowly found hers. “I’m just worried. He just got out of the hospital.”

Squeezing his shoulder, Riza smiled. “I know you are. I promise, he’ll be fine.”

Ed pushed out a sigh, and finally held his hands up in surrender, backing away. “Okay, okay, I give.” His boots thumped as he made his way down the pathway, turning one last time to throw over his shoulder, “Just don’t let Colonel Bastard anywhere near him.”

Riza waved as he left, and closed the door behind her.

She stalled for a moment as she turned. She had to admit, taking care of sick people was not her forte. The closest she got was sending the Colonel home when he was running a fever and taking over his duties for the day. But this … wasn’t her strong suit. What could go wrong, though? All she had to do was keep him warm and in supply of water and handkerchiefs. She could manage that.

Her feet padded on the wooden floors as she made her way back to the living room, where Al was shivering on the couch. He already had two of her blankets on top of him, but it was obviously taking great effort for his teeth to not clank together. She didn’t know if that was to do with his illness, or his lack of body fat. He always seemed to be cold when she visited him in the hospital.

“Still cold?” she asked.

Al peeked up at her, weighing his answer, but nodded.

She was back in less than a minute with a thick, woolen sweater—deep mahogany, with a pattern of yellow around the collar. She held it before him, letting him examine it.

“I think it’s impossible to be cold in this. If anything, you’ll be too stuffy now.”

“Sounds perfect,” he admitted, snaking an arm out of the blankets to grab it.

It slipped easily over his head, and he ran his fingers over the fabric with reverence.

“Is this yours? It doesn’t seem like your style.”

She bit down on a smile as she sunk to the couch next to him. “Don’t tell the Colonel. He may have been looking for it.”

Al snickered, and mimed zipping his lips. He leaned further back against the cushions, rubbing one bleary eye.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked, suddenly at a loss for what to do. “More water?”

“No. Thank you, Lieutenant. Sorry I’m getting germs all over your house.”

“That’s alright, Al.”

He sniffled, rubbing at his pink nose with the handkerchief he had squirreled away under the blankets.

“I could turn on the radio,” she offered.

“No.” He swallowed, wincing. “No, thank you.”

She nodded, her hands coming together to fiddle on her lap. Give her a goal, aim her at a problem, and she was golden. But this? Al suffering with no external cause? Sitting here, unable to help, unable to fix?

Her gaze flitted around the room, drawing patterns on the walls, connecting constellations of her belongings.

Al’s voice broke the silence.

“I hate this,” he mumbled, the blankets rising to cover more of his face.

Her breath pushed from her nose in a not-quite-chuckle. “I don’t think anyone likes being sick.”

A hum came from him, but besides that he was quiet, staring down at the floor.

“That’s not what you meant, though, is it?”

The shake of his head was slow, his blinks heavy. Before she could respond, tears had risen to his eyes, and he buried his hitched sniffle in his quickly-risen knees.

“Al,” she whispered, one hand coming up to rest on his shaking shoulders. “Al, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate this,” he repeated, voice thick and muffled. Only his hair was visible, and his pinkening ears.

“You’re going to have to be more specific if you want me to help.”

“I don’t think you can,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be- I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said, letting her hand start to rub slow circles on his back. “Whatever it is, it sounds like you need to get it off your chest.”

His deep inhale was shaky, the resulting sigh less so. He finally pulled his face from his knees, but only enough to peer over them and at the opposite wall.

“Brother gave up his alchemy to get my body back,” he mumbled, eyes watering, but no tears falling. “And so many people gave up so much to even get us to that point. But … ever since I got it back …”

He squinted against the oncome of more tears, and Riza waited for him to continue. His eyes squeezed tight, brows scrunching against his forthcoming outburst.

“I’ve been miserable!”

Riza tried not to let the surprise show on her face. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Clearly, this was something he needed to talk about. So she settled for a soft, “What do you mean, Al?”

His breath hitched again, and he whipped up an arm to scrub over his eyes.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. You have my word.”

He nodded, his eyes coming open. “My muscles ache all the time. Everything tires me out now, things I never even used to think about. And lights are so bright, and sounds are so loud … even the radio. It gets to be so much. I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest whenever there’s a sudden noise. Smells make me sick to my stomach, even if they’re good ones. And I can’t even enjoy the food that comes with the smells, because I can barely eat solid things without them coming back up.

I used to feel things, in the armor. I could feel sad, or scared. But it’s like … like I felt them with my brain, I guess, not my body. But now, when I’m sad, my whole entire _being_ is sad, like my heart really will just break in half. When I’m upset, that becomes my whole world.

And now, the sick thing! The armor couldn’t get sick! I couldn’t feel this terrible! But now my head hurts and my chest hurts and all I want to do is cry … which people can see now. I feel so exposed all the time. And all I want to do is feel all the things I hadn’t for so long, but so many of the things I’m feeling are bad. And after so long of nothing … I don’t know how to handle it.” His teeth found his bottom lip, trying to block the little string of sobs that spilt out of him. “You can’t tell anyone. Lieutenant, please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” she said.

“Don’t tell brother.”

“Al.” She tugged on his shoulder, and he sunk down against her, the side of his head resting on her shoulder. “I promise, I won’t tell. And I don’t break my promises.”

He nodded, arms hesitating before snaking around her waist.

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way. It sounds really overwhelming.”

“And now I …”

She waited for him to continue, but the silence hung between them. “Now, what?”

“How am I supposed to protect anyone like this?”

Riza sighed, reaching up her other hand to pull him closer.

“There’s more than one way to be a protector, Al. Used to, you could protect people because you were big, because you were strong. But that’s not the only way. You protect people with your words—by negotiating, by peace-making. You protect people using your brains—with strategy, not brawn. And you can protect people just by being there for them. By letting them know you’ll be there to have their back … that’s how you ensure their future.”

She waited for him to nod before she continued.

“As for everything else … I think these are things that will go away with time. It sucks right now, but you need to give yourself time to adapt. These are two radically different experiences you’ve had, and few people can say they’ve been through what you have. Not many people will understand. But for the people who will, the people who care about you … Let them help. Let them accommodate. Let us turn the radio lower. Let us help you around in your chair.” She rested her cheek against his head. “Let us learn to make soup.”

The words floated in the air until he turned his face to push closer. “No offence, Lieutenant,” he said, voice watery but careful, “but I think your soup would just make me more sick.”

Her laugh brushed past his blond hair. “I’m not that bad a cook.”

“If you say so.”

The laugh turned into a sigh, and she squeezed him to her. “I wish there was more I could do to help.”

His head shook as he pulled away, raising an arm to wipe his eyes with the deep red sleeve of the sweater. “You already did. Thanks.”

She watched him with a gentle expression as he raised the handkerchief to wipe his nose again.

“If there was one thing I could do, right now, to make you feel better, what would it be?”

He glanced at her, then away. He shook his head.

Her knee nudged at his leg. “What is it?”

“When …” He sighed. “When I was little, if I got sick … Mom would run her hands through my hair until I fell asleep. No one has done that in a really long time.”

He looked at her, slightly panicked as she moved away. But she was only moving to the edge of the couch, giving him room to lay down. She patted her leg. His face fell into something soft.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “It’s silly.”

“Lay down, Al.”

Slowly, he did. His cheek pillowed against her thigh, Riza started to run her fingers through his hair, letting her short nails scratch gently at the back of his neck.

He sighed, his eyes closing.

She gazed down at him, her smile a tinge sad. He’d gone through more than any person should have to go through, and in such a short life. Sometimes, it was easy to forget he was just a kid. Other times, it was much harder. Like just then, his breathing quiet as he curled an arm up to press against her leg, his eyes closed and expression peaceful.

It was easy to look at him and see a young man. It was hard to look at him and not see a child. A child with so much life behind him, and so, so much before him.

And if Riza could protect him by letting him know she was there for him, always …

Then she would.


End file.
